Found in an old notebook buried beneath magazines

She blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. There was a moment of comprehension, a moment in which she knew exactly where she was and where she belonged in the world. She blinked a third time and it was gone.

Statistics

Today, 150,000 people died of natural causes

                        because starvation is natural when there isn't enough food to eat

                        and the immune system's natural response to abnormalities is to beat

                                    whatever it is to death, despite damage to the self

                        and fire was discovered, not invented

                        and jealousy is a natural response to wealth.

Staring at a grey city sky

I guess I sometimes wonder why I can't get myself to care at all enough. I imagine what it would be like if I could wake every morning filled with energy and feeling renewed with life -- I could meet people, do things, make a difference in the world. I could learn new things. I could have new experiences, or reminisce about old ones with old friends around places we all remember growing up. I could feel connected with people, connected with the world. And I could be happy.

And yet this stigmatized illness leaves me staring at the sunless sky while all that was once so dear (and in all reality, still is and will always, always be) to my heart drifts by; I dream without sleeping.

PROMPT: The Story of My Name

It's Chel. Not Chelsea, not Shell, not Michelle or whateverthefuck you want to extend it into. Just Chel. I sort of picked it, actually -- I was born Renchel Regene Marie. But I was born to parents too young, who attempted but failed to maintain commitment after accidental child. I haven't physically seen my father since I was four. I hated him for it, you know. Just a little less than I pitied myself. I didn't even want to talk to him for the longest time. And that was just over e-mail. It was easier that way. When I had the opportunity to change my name, my mom let me choose it. Somehow it made it more special, I guess. It gave me control after lacking it for so long and being miserable because of it. That's what the doctors said the anorexia was. My feeble attempt at gaining some sort of control over my life. It went terribly wrong, of course. I'm all too familiar with the scent of hospitals, too familiar with the policies in the ICU. They don't even let immediate family in, you know. Not until you're stable. And they can't be bothered to come out and give them updates. I don't even remember the ambulance. My mother cried and cried all night. It was Mother's Day.

PROMPT: "I can't believe he said that to you."

"That dick."

"I don't think he meant it like that," I began, but already the two brothers were nodding at each other slightly. They had this look in their bright blue eyes that told me they'd already made up their minds. I immediately regretted showing them his picture.

"Don't worry. We'll take care of it."

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead into my palms. "At least keep your masks on this time, please?"

(750 stats)

PROMPT: I've never seen a sky quite like it.

I let my left foot catch up with its other and just stood there, head angled back, smiling like an idiot. I burst into laughter. Some women sitting together in a car paused before a red light in a black box turned and stared. Their lips took turns moving under their fixed eyes, but I angled my umbrella to block them out of my view. The clouds resumed their glow, and their sparkles fill all that is around me.

(750 stats)